Pillowcase
by Sentimental Ideals
Summary: Pokémon, for many kids, is when they first make their venture into a world designed to teach you that while life can be a breeze, it might just as well be a hurricane. In this world, people know you shouldn't walk through the grass but not that you shouldn't enter a room full of armed criminals. . In short, it's a lopsided look at the world of madness that is Pokémon.
1. Prologue

**Hey, everybody. While I am still working on Transatlanticism, I just had this idea that's been swimming around in my head for the past few weeks. I HAD to do a nuzlocke of Pokemon Red! So, as has become normal for me, I decided to write the experience out. This is the prologue, and the first chapter will be coming up shortly. Enjoy!**

I woke up.

This, in itself, is a very much unsuccessful description of the event. However, there are few other ways to put it, and none of them are - strictly speaking - qualified. A more detailed, and truthful, way of putting it would be this:

I was sleeping, just like I usually do at any usual night, and my usual dreams – solid blackness, like the one you get by having your eyes closed in a room without light – was the only thing showing in the cinema of my mind.

Then, suddenly, the nothingness unfurled, and I felt as though I had somehow sat up, dressed, gone to the bathroom, eaten breakfast, and then gone into and sat down in a crowded hall full of people, in one single, unnoticeable and deceptively swift movement. It was as if my whole sensory apparatus had turned itself on without a single warning.

It was still dark, however – or my eyes simply didn't work; I could not tell – and I couldn't see even as much as an inch into the unyielding murk, but there was the pressure of a cloth-draped flip chair on my backsides. There was also a gentle susurration of voices that suggested the presence of a lot of other people in the room, or possibly just the remnants of them. Yet I was still unable to perceive anything with my eyes.

A slow, but certain, feeling of dread started to drape itself over me, but it did not have much time to develop. Suddenly, there was a brilliant cone of yellow light ahead of me; I could see nothing beyond it, suggesting a rather unnatural kind of incandescence. It was but ten metres away from me, but also at a lower level. At that very moment it struck me that I must be in some sort of amphitheatre.

While I considered this, a man walked, or possibly faded, into the illuminated area. He was old, but not alarmingly so; probably he was approaching the age of retirement but not too rapidly. On his legs were khaki trousers, and on his upper body a shirt of a worn red colour, covered by a white lab coat that reached his knees. The man was holding a book in his right hand, thumb firmly pressed on the middle page and holding it open.

In his left hand, he held a microphone.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said, in a cheery sort of voice. "I just flew in from San Francisco, and boy, are my arms tired!"

I stared. Never before had horrible stand-up comedians been any sort of feature in my nightly visions.

Strangely, there seemed to be a lot of laughter. I did not hear it, nor did I see anything but the man and his floored halo of yellow light, but I perceived the chuckling as though I was recalling it ten years after it had happened, inside my mind. It had faded into a vague memory, and was nowhere near as _real_ as what I was seeing within the cone. That was not the strangest thing, though. The strangest thing was that anything, real or not, could consider that joke to be funny.*****

"Now I, as I'm sure you know, am a professor," the man continued. "We're taught a lot of things in schools, and we get _educated_, and we end up being able to make much more difficult mistakes than what stupid people do."

Again, people laughed genuinely in my recollection. I did not, mainly because I'd had to ignore such cracks many times before. But also because I was slowly sensing that my mind wanted me to already know this man. He had never before existed to me, but the sight of him sparked some recumbent impulses that wanted to tell me his name. Something with S, or O...

"Shows how human we are, doesn't it," I heard him say through my struggling brain, to a smattering of agreeing sounds from the ghostly audience. "You know, something strange happened to me on my way to the lab this morning..."

Words kept washing over me as I battled the synapses that told me how common all of this was. He told 'amusing' anecdotes regarding something I construed as veterinary work, he pulled a tiny, strange-looking animal up with him on stage, and he even did the what's-the-deal-with-airline-food routine. Only he didn't talk about airline food, but some other sort of comestible.

For some reason I was unable to concentrate on the words he used, except in a very few cases. I got the gist of his meaning, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out how he had put it.

And all the way through, there was that suggestion of bright laughter and good humour past. It was a fitting response: Old laughs for old jokes.

Eventually, the professor turned his face to somebody in the front row. I thought it was the front row, at least, if there even was such a thing as rows in here, but I still could not see anything except that one man. He parted his lips and asked some person there: "Now, what's your name, child?"

I barely noticed the response. It was likely a stupid idea, born from a split second of emptiness and a desire to get out of here, but I had a sudden urge to say my own name to myself in case it could assist my escape.

So I quietly murmured it under my breath, taking care that none of the memories in the room heard me. My hands found armrests and gripped them.

Suddenly, there was another person on stage. He couldn't possibly be very old at all; at first sight I would have placed him to be in the range of fifteen to seventeen, but his voice as he greeted the memories and I carried a distinct lack of puberty.

The professor asked the boy, who was wearing a tasteless purple sweater and sporting a hairdo that would have to have taken hours with a slightly insane dresser, what his name was, in an obvious 'pretend-to-be-ignorant' act.

I found myself silently mumbling "He looks like a Kevin."

Down on stage, the two men feigned surprise that he was, in fact, a Kevin. Then, they talked a little more, to general amusement, except not for me. After a few minutes, they wrapped up their show, and went away while wreathing words of farewell. The light was suddenly turned off, plunging even the stage into complete darkness. And in my head, I found that I had to fight the notion that I _didn't_know the professor.

And then, I woke up, properly this time.

* Or if it came to that, a joke.


	2. Chapter 1

**Here's the first chapter, as promised. The rules will be up in the next chapter, since that's when the action will start as well. Enjoy!**

Slowly squirming upright in bed, I rubbed my scrambled head. I had never in my life had such a strange dream before; it was like all my senses had decided to dance… Charleston, or something. Whatever a Charleston was…

A groan escaped my throat, and I swung my legs down to the floor, relishing in how hard and chilly it was. It was a solid counterpoint for the mess my mind currently was, like a pinch of salt or a needle in the arm. I sat still like that for a long while, breathing calmly.

Then, gradually, I stood up, stretched and went over to the bathroom, while my mind – in the background - pondered what on Earth that had all been about. It was nothing but idle thought, but the memory was strong enough to provide for the activity. Why had those two been on stage? _And... Why do I feel like this isn't_ my _room_?

Fifteen minutes later, I stood fully dressed with my hand on the doorknob, sighing a bit. Today was, I'd recalled with sudden clarity only half a minute before, my last day of sleeping in this room. My mum had laid plans, great plans, for me to take a journey through the world. It was traditional, of course, but it was still disheartening and not least frightening to have that prospect hanging over me.

I let my eyes scan the room one last time. There was the bed, which I hadn't made this morning; the bright magenta and (I had started to realise) horrid bedclothes were strewn messily about. There was the television, which was quite a luxury for me to have up here to myself, with a NES console lying in front of it. A jolt of thought wondered why it was a NES and not a 'Whee'. The next one wondered what a 'Whee' was, and why I'd thought of that.

Shaking my head, I took in the cluttered work desk and the carpet, drew my breath, and turned the handle, descending to the ground floor while muttering a very quiet goodbye to the place.

My mother was there – once again, I had to struggle with a stray thought; this one said that there was a foreign, taller woman where Mum ought to be – and she brightened considerably at the sight of me, standing up from her place at the table and rushing over to hug me.

"Happy tenth birthday, honey," she told my shoulders, while I was being wrapped tightly in her embrace, as well as in a mighty scent of aloe perfume.

"... Thanks, Mum," I responded eventually. I found myself choking a bit as my lips parted; the thought of leaving mother behind had chosen that moment to announce itself to me with a bang.

"Now…" she said, her own lip quivering and her eyes practically forced open, and pulled away to take a grip on my shoulders. "Are you ready? I've packed your backpack and all..."

I didn't know what to do if not nod, so that was what I did. She seemed calmed by this, if not entirely content, and stood up fully, turning back. Looking up at her, I frowned slightly but nonetheless went to take my seat at the breakfast table.

She picked up my green rucksack, closed it and lifted it up, then picked up a small plastic-wrapped double sandwich beside it.

"You know..." her voice came, wobbly with emotion, and I immediately sat up to attention. "All children leave home someday... The telly said so." She sounded unusually morose, standing with her back to me. "I just... never really realised, you know?"

I cautiously avoided commenting on the fact that she was the one who had planned it all since yesteryear, then berated myself for even thinking about it in the first place. She turned, and I took care to nod once her now moist eyes came into view.

"... Be strong, honey. I'll take care of your room for you..."

She moved forward, and handed me my knapsack and what I realised was my breakfast, wrapped in foil. Carefully, she regarded me with chestnut eyes.

"Professor Oak told me to send you over as soon as possible. I... I hope you'll come by again before you leave?"

She was on the verge of tears, so I hastily accepted the items, and gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile, even though I felt no stronger myself. "'ll do that, Mum," I managed, and went over to embrace her one more time.

Then, I turned, and headed out the door: To my surprise, I suddenly found excitement breaking into the chaos that, right now, was my mind.


	3. Chapter 3

Squirtle fell down to the floor, face first, battered and exhausted. Jolene let out a wisp of air, content; I did just the same.

"That means Kim won," said Professor Oak, as he walked in between us. "Now, are you happy with your choices?"

I took a few seconds to reply, but when I did, it was from the floor where I was suddenly, and without remembering how, embracing Jolene, while an inner voice wondered why on Earth I was doing that, and also complained about the flame being too close to my hair.

I said: "Yes."

Then, as slowly and just as unstoppably as a glacier, a wail erupted from the other side of the white lab coat. It sounded like the air being noisily let out of a balloon, if balloons were able to hold convictions.

"Aaaawww, I chofe the rong Poke-mon!" it said, and then Kevin ran out of the building.

I decided instead to stand up while still holding my Charmander, taking care not to set fire to any stray locks, and turned to Oak.

"Thanks, um, mist'r Oak," I said, wincing a little bit, but the professor did not seem to notice. He absent-mindedly put a finger in his ear and wriggled it around a bit. Then he sniffed the result, with the air about him of having made an interesting find.

"Um, bye," I said, with rather more urgency, then rushed out the door before he could react.

As I was about to honour Mum's wish that I should visit her before leaving, though, I came to a stop, Jolene clasped tight to my chest with both arms, resting my eyes on the sign to the right of our front door.

It had _always_ been there, and so it was very strange that I noticed it now, of all times.

The writing said 'KIM'S HOUSE' in large block type. It struck me as odd now; there were only two houses, and they were never locked, so you couldn't really miss it for very long if you were looking for it. Besides, where was Mum's name? It was _her_ house, not mine, and I wasn't going to live here much longer anyway. Permanently, I meant. Oh... Poor Mum...

The same was true for the Oak residence. It had 'KEVIN'S HOUSE' pasted in block letters on a signpost at the west side. It was almost like a commercial for the people who lived there; the outer walls might as well have been made out of glass.

Perhaps they are, said my sarcasm, and that's why there're people practically camping outside.


	4. Chapter 4

Visiting Mum again had taken an hour. She had broken down crying several times – when it started, tears had started from the corners of my eyes, too, but after the umpteenth time it ended up as a bit tiresome.

She had also given me another meal, which she had described as 'proper food'. This meant it included hot cocoa, a boiled egg, a toaster, burnt bacon, and parsley on absolutely every surface it could conceivably lie down on. I had never figured out why it was so that people put parsley on food to decorate it, when it could not possibly be for the terrible taste; it was like putting small bits of rubber on sausages, or salting jelly.

Regardless, I had left after an hour, with the promise that I would visit again soon. It wasn't that I didn't _want_ to. It would just be a bit odd to go out, be told about the adventures I was going to have, get a Pokémon for protection and then end up sleeping in my own bed.

So I headed up, towards the spot just north of town. It seemed like a nice day was in the works, and Jolene walked along beside me with a pleasant look on its face. That was reassuring; I had feared it would be angry with me somehow.

We walked through a few patches of grass. Gentle wind caressed my face, and there was a mild sun peeking down on us between a few wispy white clouds. The grass waved and tickled, and in the distance a pack of Pidgey rustled out of a bush, ascending upwards.

A second of thought deemed this as odd. That was the only sign of life I could see, save the humming of a nearby fly or two. Normally, the route was swarming with Rattata and there were always bird Pokémon nearby. Now, however, there was not a single one, save those who had just escaped whatever was lurking in that shrubbery.

There were also no people there. Then again, I remarked to myself, that was only a question of time. It was unthinkable that _he'd_ gone anywhere.

About fifty feet ahead, I caught sight of him. He was mutely inspecting a fallen birch branch with an expression that told me he had no idea what he was looking at, or even if he was actually looking at anything.

Slowly approaching, I drew up courteously a short way away and greeted him with an "Um, hello, mist'r Mad Roger.*****" He turned slowly to look at me, and his face split to reveal a gradually gaping mouth near the bottom.

Consider a scarecrow, one that has been standing out in a field for at least a lifetime and been attacked by a frightened badger, or twenty. Remove the straw hat, so that the head is showing beneath, only it has been ripped open at the top and the stuffing, yellowed dry hay, is poking out and covering it like a crown of unruly hair.

That was exactly what Mad Roger looked like, except he did not have a stick up his bottom - much as he might have needed one, as well as a bath. Make that seven baths. He lived out here, but nobody had ever figured out where he slept, if he slept at all, or where he went to have a wee, if he ever did.

He dropped the branch, scratched his cheek in a flurry of grey flakes, and spoke a few choice words.****** "Duck's jelly? Urrh..."

Roger swayed a little, but reached out and grabbed a handful of air to steady himself. Miraculously, it seemed to work.

"It's no'... Burrh... Hill?"

"'t's Kim, mist'r," I responded, mellow. This was what he did every time he met people, and I had managed to map out what to do with him most of the time. You simply don't live next to a prime source of childish entertainment as him for ten years without getting to know his habits.

"Oh," was all he said.

Then, a few seconds later, he lifted his hands, and pointed to a very minute elevation in the terrain; there were several of them around the place, I knew, and not a single one of them was taller than a few centimetres.

"See, gurrh, dem fings?" he burst out, suddenly, after a short while longer.

I nodded calmly. "Known 'em all m'life, mist'r."

"'s a bit, grr, scrary, Kiln, but... Y'can hop orf'em. Oven." He drifted off, and swayed a bit. "Durrh..."

"'ll keep that in mind, mist'r," I intoned, bobbing my head at him again.

He broke into what might have been a smile, groaned, and then fell backwards onto a tuft of green, where he lay still for the moment it took for him to start snoring.

Mum had said something about avoiding him once. I had, as a matter of course, followed her warning by _not_ avoiding him. It was like being told not to put peas up your nose – once you knew about it, you just couldn't help trying it at least once.

Second thought, though, did kind of hint that Roger was not the kind of man you would take home for dinner. Nonetheless, he was a fun person to come across, especially when he started frothing at the mouth and tried to scratch his ear with his foot. Or, I recalled as I headed on again, when he started howling at passing Rattata.

After a few seconds, a quiet yet hissing voice mumbled: "He'sss _sssscary_..."

I stopped in my tracks. It had come from right behind me, and that was where I turned to look. There was not a person in sight, disregarding the oozing pile that was Mad Roger. And he was never that coherent.

Throwing a quick look at Jolene, I shrugged and walked on. A light and slightly off-beat rustling behind me told me that it was following me; I smiled again.

It was a matter of minutes before Viridian City came into view.

That, too, was a name that spoke too highly. To have a city, my uncle had said, you had to have more than a thousand people living there. Viridian had twenty, thirty, perhaps forty inhabitants at most. Unless there was a secret underground lair underneath where the poor lived. My mother had always said that poor people lived out of sight, so why not?

It had a gym, though. Gyms, according to the films on TV, were buildings where strong trainers went in and met menacing henchmen amidst stacks of boxes with bad lighting on them, and then proceeded to have well-choreographed martial arts battles with them, at the same time as Pokémon battles. The battles would always end almost in the bad guys' favour, but then the good ones would start shouting loudly and then they'd win.

This, I had often suspected, was a load of rubbish.

There was also a Pokémon centre, and a shop. I'd been inside that shop quite often when Mum was busy, but never visited any others. I _had_, however, visited several Pokémon centres. They were like Pokémon hospitals, but doubled as motels for travelling trainers, and also as gossip houses. You could barely look at one without somebody telling you something slanderous.

Still, that was the very first spot I aimed at. Jolene had got into a few sudden struggles after stepping on two Rattata's tails, and after almost being hit by a Pidgey's dropping, and was looking quite beat. It should get some rest, and in the meantime, perhaps I could pop by the shop, just to check up on things…

* He had never minded the nickname. Possibly he and his mind were too far apart to take notice, or had fallen out and never spoke to each other anymore.  
** They were far from _good_ choices, mind.


	5. Chapter 5

With my Charmander sleeping peacefully in a bed, a rather egg-shaped nurse keeping watch over it, I nipped out of the centre. Or rather, I tried to. A man held me up at the door, and told me that I could use everything in there at no fee, which I already knew very well.

He then proceeded to ask me whether I would like to come back to his place, but I politely declined.

Leaving him to his apparent disappointment, I turned my nose towards the mart. It sat squat and silent, with a blue roof on, and with the occasional customer heading in or out. To me, it had always looked cosy and pleasant, but right now I somehow felt that it loomed a bit.

So I stopped outside, and waited for a few seconds before gathering the courage to push the door open.

There were three people inside. Two of them were customers scouring shelves in the back, and the third was the shop's owner, Mr. Dale.

He peered at me in incomprehension, before a gear clinked, and he raised his hand. "Ah, hello? You are from Pallet, yes yes?" he said urgently, with a bit of an accent.*****

I nodded. Mr. Dale had a terrible long-term memory, and a slightly worse short-term one. It was rare, if not miraculous, for him to keep track of a face from one day to another, and names he was often even worse with. He was known around town as 'One-Day Memory Dale', although that was being too nice about it. If you spent more than one hour with him, he might suddenly go blank, then shake your hand vigorously and tell you that he didn't see you coming there, and who are you please, and what's your name, and where is this please, yes yes?

He tended to keep his bearings, just barely, by having a sign behind the desk that listed three bullet points: 1. Your name is Marcus Dale; 2. You run this shop; and 3. You have a bad memory.

Today seemed to be a good day, though, seeing as he had guessed where I was from. He smiled oddly, and lifted something out from below the counter. It was a quiet sort of package in brown, one that would barely be noticed even if you put it on a dais and set a spotlight on it.

"This," the shopkeeper continued, "is for good professor, professor, ah... For good professor in Pallet. Came in not minute ago!"

I carefully approached the desk, and reached a hand out for it, asking: "Should I take it to him, mist'r Dale?"

"Ah, yes yes, please do," he responded, pleasantly.

Just as I had taken the package in my hands, and had opened my mouth to ask if I could buy a few things, the man froze, and his hands balled into fists. The other two customers looked up, then down again. This was perfectly normal.

Not a moment afterwards, he returned to his usual demeanour, and a smile broke out on his face. His eyes located me, upon which he smiled even wider. "Ah, young child! Who are you? Where is this? What name is mine?"

"Read th' sign, mist'r Dale," I said, patiently, attempting to indicate the spot behind the counter where the reminder was hanging. I failed.

"Sign? So many signs! There is one, yes yes," he gabbled, pointing at a wall where prices were listed on a piece of cardboard. Without hesitating even a split second, he walked out from behind the counter and went over to read it.

I watched quietly as he suddenly and loudly discovered a product tag right beyond it, one that was much shinier and had happy pictures of fruits on.

Perhaps this is a bad time to shop, I thought, as I inched backwards to the exit.

* I had never grasped _why_ he had an accent. He'd been born and raised in Viridian to what mother had described as "sensible parents", and had never left the place even for a vacation. It just seemed to be one of those things.


	6. Chapter 6

My next thought was that Jolene was probably still resting, so I went past the centre and instead went back to Pallet by myself.

There was a certain amount of defiance behind the decision. The professor had told me that I shouldn't go through the glade alone, which, frankly, was stupid. I had been there on my own for six years, with nobody tagging along except Kevin, on occasions he felt particularly spiteful. And then, suddenly, I was told that it was a no-go unless I had a Pokémon. Why did he suddenly want to stop me from doing that, out of nowhere?

However, there was also the fact that I was afraid. Perhaps, just perhaps, I had no reason to – but I could not help having that nagging feeling that I was, somehow, going to mess it all up. There were stories about people whose Pokémon had turned on them and attacked them, and of other Pokémon running away and even dying...

But the greatest fear to me had always been that, if I was ever given a responsibility for another creature, they might end up hating me for it. I _loathed_ being hated, and I would rather just avoid the whole thing – and now, since that had just happened, the fear was even stronger.

Still, and this surprised me greatly, I found myself more concerned with something else. Mum had told me, a few weeks ago in solemn discussion, that the real world was... difficult. Pokémon could die, she had said. That was, of course, only natural. Father had died many years ago, almost before I was born. So of course, Pokémon would die, too. Nobody could live forever – several people had tried, but they all passed away in the attempt.

But… dying was one thing, but _dying_ was another. What Mother had said, was that sometimes, just sometimes, Pokémon could perish in battle. Not from old age, or illness. They would fight, like they often did on the telly, and then suddenly one of them might fall to the ground and don't get up again. According to her, it was rare, but it still happened every now and then, if things got particularly heated…

Of course, that happened to humans as well. They said so on the news, that people might stick knives in each other every now and then. Sometimes several times, or several knives. Even an axe, that one time, but when the anchor had mentioned _that_, Mum had grabbed the remote and told me to go out and play in the trees.

The fact that she'd told me that Pokémon might die, though, made me worried that they died differently.

So I walked alone, to be by myself for a little while.

It was still a good day, outwardly. A few more clouds had appeared in the sky, but they were barely scatters of dust when compared to the large blueness of it all. The sun hung there, too, and warmed the ground between the occasional lashes of wind.

Also, a colony of Pidgey had started pecking on Mad Roger's toes. He was giggling softly in what I could only assume was a sleep. The birds flew away as I passed the scene.

There was, however, a very noticeable lack of danger. All the while, wild creatures completely failed to appear and jump out at me and bite me and whatever they were supposed to do with helpless children at their mercy.

Feeling smug, but also a bit robbed, I went through to Professor Oak's lab, and pushed open the door with my shoulder.

He was there, as usual. So was Kevin. Both somehow caught eyes with me just as the door swung away; I headed straight for the two of them.

"Good afternoon, Kim," intoned the professor. "Back so soon?"

Pausing only to dart my tongue out at Kevin, I replied: "Um, yes, sir. Only mist'r Dale tole me to give you this." I lifted up the brown package so that he could see it more clearly.

"My word, could it be? Is it here already?" he said, lighting up. Without a hint of hesitation, he pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning against and strode towards me, so that we met in the middle of the floor, where he knelt with his arms outstretched. "May I see?"

"'Course, mist'r Oak, sir."

He took it with both hands, and held it up to his ear; two experimental shakes later, he seemed satisfied. "It _is_, isn't it. Well, it's a rather helpful coincidence you're the one to deliver it, Kim!"

The man stood up, and walked back to the table where Kevin had been sitting with a finger up his nose. Oak shoved the boy off, and put the package down gently. Then he turned to face us. Or as it was at that moment, he turned to face me and Kevin's bottom.

"Oww, grampf, why'd y'do dat?" complained Kevin as he picked himself off the floor, but he was ignored. I smirked happily to myself.

"This parcel contains two copies of a remarkable object. Most every trainer gets given one at the start of their journey, and so it's only right for you to have one each, too." As he spoke, his fingers undid the wrapping; it fell off to reveal two small metal casings, and a lot of bubble wrap. "It's called a Pokédex, and it automatically stores information about any Pokémon you come across. It's a high-tech encyclopaedia!"

"How?" I asked.

"Well," said Oak, "it's quite simple. It can read the creatures as it sees them, and gathers what it fi– it'd be much easier to show you. Where's your Charmander, Kim?"

"Not here, sir."

"Not dead, is it?"

"... No," I said, after a short pause.

"Oh, well, no matter." He shook his hand a little, then took one of the Pokédexes into his grip, swinging off the lid. Inside it was a screen and a whole lot of buttons, the use of which I realised that I would have large problems figuring out.

Then again, I had a distinct feeling that so would the inventor.

The professor turned to Kevin. "Do you have your, ah, Fquirtle with you, Kevin?"

"Yef, grampf," he replied, taking out a Poké Ball that was much smaller than usual. He pushed the button to enlarge it to normal size, then pushed it again, releasing a stubby and by now very apprehensive tortoise.*****

"Mrmm," it said, and scratched its ear, or where its ear would have been if it had got any.

The professor rubbed his hands together. "Very well, then. This is a fairly uncommon Pokémon, in general terms. This Dex shouldn't have any information stored about it, so it will be completely ignorant. The Dex, not the Squirtle, of course. Observe..."

He held the item towards the water turtle. On the top of it was a sort of glass bulb, like the one they have on old remote controls, and this was pointed at the Pokémon's head. A sudden blink confirmed that the Pokédex was at work.

A mere second later, it hiccuped. Professor Oak pulled it towards him and stared at the screen for a little while, mumbling to himself.

Then he held it out. "So, with just a moment of reading the creature, Dex has got all this info from it..." Pushing down on a yellow oval button with his thumb, he let free a mechanical voice that droned dully.

"Squirtle, the Tiny Turtle Pokémon. After birth, its back swells and hardens into a shell. It powerfully sprays foam from its mouth," the voice said, then subsided. The professor clapped the lid back on, and grinned.

"That's how it works. Simple, isn't it?"

"But..." said Kevin, suddenly. "_'__Ow'f_ it know itf fhell, um, hardenf afta' birf?"

I could not avoid throwing a surprised look at him. He was actually being topical.

The professor froze, too, although he stared into thin air rather than at the boy. A hand lifted up and placed itself underneath his chin, and he frowned slightly.

After a notable period of deliberation, he said: "Now that _is_ a puzzle... Supposing... Well, I'm sure it's already in the device somewhere, somehow." He tossed a glance down at the Squirtle. "Unless the knowledge is stored in Pokémon, and time doesn't... My, oh my, that's quite a concept. I must admit I've never given it much thought... This calls for a conference, ahah, call, quite instantly..."

Tuning out his thoughts for a second, he quickly grabbed both Dexes from the table, and handed one to each of us. I noted, although only as a passing point, that I got the one where Squirtle had been registered; briefly and with some degree of contention, I wondered if Kevin would ever think to include the tortoise in his encyclopaedia.

"There. Now, go out and catch all the creatures you can find, fulfil the dreams of my lost youth, all that nonsense. Off you go, I've got some important discussions to host, and no mistake..."

As I was shoved out the door, I heard him mumble something about a quite wide variety of trees. Perhaps he was changing jobs to become a botanist.

Kevin prodded my shoulder lightly from behind; then, as I turned around to face him, he pushed hard on my shoulders and ran for it. "I'll catf mo' dan you!" he shouted, and was long out of view before I could come up with a retort.

A few seconds after he had vanished, I exclaimed "If you mean venereal diseases, you're right!" in the general direction he had gone off. It made me feel better. I had no idea what it meant – nobody had ever told me what 'venereal' was supposed to be – but I had always had it figured for something to do with veins. Or possibly it was a sort of 'venerable' for illnesses, only since they were, well, illnesses, it went the other way.

Possibly, I might have been a bit too harsh.

That was as far as my thoughts went, because the next second, Professor Oak smashed open the doors, and shouted: "Stop, don't-" before hampering himself. "... Oh, there you are. Where's Kevin?"

His entrance (or, as may be, _exit_) had not been of the type I could just shrug off. I had staggered back a few feet, lost my footing, and had had to lean up against a fencepost to keep my balance. I heaved for breath.

"Well, Kim, do tell! It's vitally important that-"

"Ran, mist'r," I managed. Then I nodded towards the path.

"That thoughtless young boy... Hmm..."

He turned to me, and regarded me critically for a few seconds.

"Why're you hanging from there, child?"

"Um, sorry. Din't mean to..." Slowly, I got back up properly.

"Oh, well, I suppose it's not important. Now... I just received a message. Might be a good thing to know about. The government put out a restriction on catching Pokémon, just an hour ago. Seems there's a crisis somewhere."

"… What's that mean, mist'r Oak, sir?"

"Means you can't catch that many Pokémon. It seems a whole bunch of kids've been coming to the other professors, I've been told they came to _me_ as well, I'll be mogadored if they have, I haven't noticed a single one, and gone on a wild catching spree, hah. Means there's a lot fewer Pokémon remaining in their own communities, so the League's going to reduce captures in order to protect them."

I did not understand a word of what he was saying, so I nodded mutely.

"So, if you're out there, you'll have to make do with only a few, is that clear? Otherwise they'll come down on you hard. Might revoke your licence. Only catch when needed, then move on, that's the ticket."

He turned towards the spot where Kevin no longer was. "Hmm... I don't suppose he'll be able to do much harm, with his abilities... Ahem. I'll let him go. Can't think he'll damage the wildlife much except mentally."

"Um... Licence?" I asked. My foot was twirling slightly in the dirt, having had the sensation of not knowing something vital a few seconds before my brain did.

"Well, without it, you can't own or live with 'em. Pokémon, I mean. If they take your licence, you'll have to give back Charmander, and have to live without the things the rest of your life. So keep in line, d'you hear?"

I gave him a hesitant, solemn nod, one with quite a lot of terror inherent in it. Just then, I had realised what he was trying to say - if I broke the rules, I'd have to retur- to give up Jolene...

I had not wanted to catch all that many of them to begin with, but now I was scared of using even a single Poké Ball...

He scratched his chin. "Don't be scared of training on 'em, though. Remarkably resilient, every single one. If they faint, they'll be back up in a matter of minutes, mark my words. The league just don't want too many taken out of where they belong."

Despite myself, I had a sudden vivid picture of Pokémon as springboards.

"Say," he said, noticing my worried expression before I did. "Don't be scared. I'm sure it'll be fine. How'd you like me to set up a bit of a limit for you, just to be certain?"

My head nodded before I could consent to it, but that was fine, because I was going to. I sniffed. He gave me an understanding smile, and set his voice to a more careful tone.

"Just catch one Pokémon per route. That's the roads between cities, you know. That good with you? Oh, and no catching more than one Pokémon of each kind, 'cause that's the clincher, that's what they're afraid of. Well, that seems to be fine," he said suddenly, breaking out of the mannerism and clapping his hands together without waiting for me to respond.

All I managed was to blink, before saying a hurried "Yes!"

The man gave a sigh, and then shook his head, turning back to the door. He paused just before going in, and glanced back at me. "Good luck, Kim. Keep an eye on Kevin for me, won't you?"

And, before I knew a word of it, he was back inside, while I was left alone on the lawn.

* I had heard about this before. There was a difficult name for it, which was 'multi-functionality'. It meant that you could never be quite certain exactly _what_ was going to happen if you pressed the button, no matter how many times you'd done it before. Apparently, this was very useful.


	7. Chapter 7

I made it back to the Pokémon Centre in Viridian Cluster-of-buildings without anything strange happening. Kevin's big sister, Helen, had called on me to hand me a map, clearly to help – although I wasn't sure how to read a map and hadn't dared to ask.

Jolene was still not awake when I came in. It had fallen asleep, for some reason I couldn't understand, but it seemed to be doing a full run of it, with dreams and all.

Instead of waking it up, which would've been rude, I headed back into the shop. There, Mr. Dale was nodding amiably at some woman he hadn't known five minutes ago, and would stop knowing in four or so hours.

I walked up to the counter.

"Ah, young child!" he exclaimed, as the lady ambled off. "How are you? _Who_ are you?"

"Um, 'm jus' gonna buy, um... A few things, mist'r Dale."

"What is this Mistredayle, please?"

"Um, you, mist'r Dale, sir."

He glanced down at the reminder plate. "Oh, I see, yes yes. So what will it be, little one?"

I bit my lip as I scanned the small display counter behind him. It was where he put the most popular items, the ones that everybody wanted to buy: Poké Balls, Escape Ropes, Repels… Of course, food and medicine were also quite popular, but most of that was stuffed in the coolers at the back wall.

"'ll have... Five Poké Balls, mist'r Dale. An', an' some med'cine…"

"Medcine? Is that big black pointy thing with buttons?"

I stopped, thinking back to the cabinet we had back home. A few black things came to mind, and there had definitely been a few pointy things in there, but 'big' and 'buttons' was worrying.

"... No, mist'r, it's... It's med'cine, mist'r."

"Oh? Medcine? You mean like small colourful thing with pages, that you read-"

"No, mist'r Dale, it's _med'cine_!"

He stared at me as though wondering what to do about me. "… So you _don't_ want big pointy thing with-"

"I- I fink 'll jus' take th' Poké Balls, mist'r Dale," I muttered, to stop him doing something I would regret.

He rambled back into the store room. After a montage of tumbling noises, he returned, with five small spheres held in a plastic bag. Handing it to me, and accepting my gingerly offered banknote as payment, he waved.

"There's order, yes yes. Come back tomorrow?"

As I carefully inched myself back towards the door, I muttered: "Um, right, mist'r Dale..."

Then, with a "Bye!" I disappeared as quickly as I could through the open doorway.


	8. Chapter 8

When I returned to the Pokémon centre again, Jolene was sitting upright on the bed. I hurried over, but my legs stopped moving when I was only a few feet away; there I remained, watching it quietly for a little while. It had not noticed me, because its back was turned and it was staring at a television set. Nothing was on.*****

The nurse, however, laid eyes on me after a few seconds. "Why, hello there," she said. "Your Charmander is healthy and fresh now!"

From the metaphorical corner I now felt myself backed into, I squabbled a meagre "Um... Thanks, miss..." and felt my leg start twirling again. I tossed a very quick glance at my Pokémon.

It turned, and smiled innocently at me when it found me.

Once more, I had to shake myself, both mentally and in a very real sense. Then I stepped forward, and put my hand on its head.

"You all right?" I asked weakly; the realisations and new information from before had taken its toll and I felt rather wobbly.

"Jusssst fine," said the nurse. At least, that was what I figured, but I could not recall her having a hiss before. I blinked at her.

"Have a nice day!" she said.

Five minutes later, I was outside, and Jolene was standing right beside me, drawing fresh air. It was nearing evening by now, and dusk was slowly creeping up, but the whole of the sun was visible and would probably still be in half an hour.

And it struck me that I was on a journey. Two hundred metres away from home, granted, but still travelling.

Scratching my head, I glanced down. "Um, less go, then..."

We set off slowly. I was lost entirely in thought, and ambled far more than I walked - and I was thinking of what to do, and what the professor had said to me.

When he told me that I could have my license, whatever that was, revoked, I had thought that I hadn't wanted to capture too many Pokémon but at least get a few of them to travel with. Also that I was convinced by his words to not catch as many.

Now I realised that this was the wrong way around. Originally, I didn't want to catch a single one - and much as I disliked to admit it right now, that included Jolene - and, somehow, what the professor said somehow made me want to find more of the creatures. It made no sense at all. But perhaps it explained, to some extent, why I had bought Poké Balls. I wanted to capture Pokémon... But I still wasn't going to break Oak's guideline.

I let my eyes fall down and saw that Jolene was staring right at me, puzzled.

"Um..." I tried, hesitating. "How'd you like to, um... catch another Pokémon?"

This was, of course, a stupid thing to ask. There was nothing that said it would understand what I was talking about, but at least it made me feel better.

To my startlement, it responded with a comprehending nod. It was as though it knew perfectly well what I had asked.

"You don't, um... Unnerstand me, do you? Um..."

Another nod, although there was a hint of uncertainty to it. That, at the very least, was relieving.

Without saying another word, I headed down further, clearing one of the terrifying, horrifying ledges and entered a patch of grass. A tuft was rustling a little bit away. Was it a Rattata? They were cute... I hoped it was a Rattata.

A rush of green and purple happened, and then the rodent was standing a matter of mere feet away, watching us warily.

It was tiny, not much larger than my foot and perhaps a bit smaller than Mum's; most of its height was from its curled-up tail, which was standing almost straight up from its back. Its large teeth gleamed in the sunlight, but it cowered slightly.

It inched back as Jolene took a step forward, but I held out a hand to the Charmander.

Then, cautiously, I approached the purple Pokémon.

"Um... Hi," I said, hunching down in front of it. " 'm... Kim... I live down there... Who're you?"

It stared, completely perplexed. I had often before talked to the Rattata up here, and they had been a sort of company. However, then as now, they seemed not to get a word I was saying, which was very soothing. Stretching out an arm, I patted it gently on the head.

Quickly, I whipped a Poké Ball out of my pocket and held it to the Rattata, who nudged it curiously with its nose.

A brief flare of red later, and I had another Pokémon. Jolene came up to me, and gazed at the sphere.

"Um, hey..." I said, but quietly, " 't's jus' a Rattata... They're harmless..."

It did not break off the stare, so I bent down and patted its head, too. "Don' worry... Less go back to th' Pokémon centre, okay?"

After an unresponsive silence, I picked the ball up and turned towards Viridian, and heard the shuffle of feet behind me as Jolene came around and trailed me.

-

* That is, the set was turned off. Generally speaking, this is a more entertaining alternative to watching the nothing that is on television when the power is on.


	9. Chapter 9

Five minutes later, we were sitting on a couch inside the building. Mostly. Jolene was not allowed to sit on account of its tail being a fire hazard, but I was, and so was the Poké Ball containing the Rattata. Charmander was still watching it, in a sort of trance.

In an attempt to call its attention, I said: "Well, um, thass our first friend!"

Nothing happened.

Shaking my head, I pressed the button on the ball. Out came a white light that gradually shaped itself into the form of a rat.***** But before the transformation was even complete, it blurred and became what was more of a ball shape in the far corner of the sofa.

Then, the colours came and I could see the Rattata, who had curled itself up and lay trembling under Jolene's look. I gingerly reached out for it, but that only seemed to make it cower more.

"Um... Don' be afraid... 'm not gonna, um... Hurt you..." I said, in an attempt to soothe the creature. It cocked an ear at me, but that was all.

"Please?" I tried again. This time it jolted, and ran down to the floor; it ended up at the join between the nearest two walls, where it shook violently.

I sighed, and dropped backwards to the backrest, where my eyes closed. This was turning out to be much harder than I'd imagined.

A voice said: "It'ssss jussst afraid."

My eyelids lashed open, and I sat up straight. "Who said that?"

"I did," it explained, or more to the point, failed to explain.

I swayed my eyes around the room, but there was not a single person nearby, not counting the nurse who was talking in the phone anyway. The back of my mind noted that she was giggling and saying things like "You silly-billy man, you" to whoever was at the other end.

"Who _are_ you, then?" I asked, standing up and scanning nooks and crevices for anyone in hiding.

"I'm right here," it said, sounding a bit exasperated by now, and I caught movement in the corner of my eye. Got you...

But the movement was Jolene, who was peering at me. It had folded its stubby arms, and the fire on its tail was flickering a bit.

"... Jolene? Was that you?"

There was no reply. I touched my forehead and tried once more to find the voice's originator.

It said "Yessss."

I whirled around, and faced it again. "You can _talk_?"

"Of courssssse I can," it said, its tongue intruding on its lips and giving its voice a very recognisable hiss. "Everyone talkssss." It looked down to the side, finding Rattata in the corner.

I flopped down to my knees on the floor, eyes wide open. "But... But I thought-"

"Why sssshouldn't we talk? _You_ do," it said, turning its eyes on me again and very nearly reading my mind. "All Pokémon _talk_. Everything doesssss."

I was about to open my mouth and argue, but stopped myself. That made complete sense, although I had imagined that English was a bit human-and-parrot-exclusive. But just because I had never heard any Pokémon speak my mother tongue before, that didn't mean it never happened.

"Fair 'nough," I conceded, sagging a bit. "Um... But you speak, um, Charmander too, right?"

"Naturally. All Pokémon are polyglots."

"Polly... What's that mean?"

"It meanssss we can ssssspeak more than one language, of coursssssse," it explained. "Haven't you gone to ssssschool?"

" 'm only ten!" I said defiantly, and felt a bit of blood rush to my cheeks.

Jolene sighed, and dropped its arms to its side. "The point issss, yesss, we can talk." It turned to look at Rattata again, calculating something.

"Um... C'n you tell it... it don't need t'be scared?" This was said with rather more apprehension.

"I don't think it'll work... Ssssee, it undersssstandsss what you ssssay, too," it replied, then let out a wisp of air, closing its eyes. "But I'll give it a try."

I sat back and watched as the creature in the corner was approached by the Charmander. If anything, the trembling seemed to get stronger, and could very probably be called a shaking at this point.

Once or twice, I caught a snippet of "Char, charchar", and even "... won't hurt you, I'm ssssure..." I tried to listen more closely once I heard the latter, but at that point, Jolene let its shoulders drop and came back over, with a few stray glances thrown back to the other Pokémon.

It approached me where I sat in the sofa, having deemed the linoleum a bit too rough and drafty.

"It'll come around if it wantssss to," it shrugged, but there was an ounce of hopefulness to its tone.

"Oh," I said. Then I sat silently for a little while, gazing off into the distance.

After a minute or so, one that had felt like an hour, I opened my mouth again. "What's 'Char, charchar' mean?"

"That dependsss." It gave me a curious look, and it somehow felt to me that it thought I was stupid. I set my jaw in defiance and continued.

"But you said it-"

"I know. _Then_, it meant 'Ssssun'sss gone down', but the way _you_ ssssaid it, it meanssss 'There are bearssss in my ssstomach'."

I stared. "Why? They're the same, aren't they?"

At that point, it actually giggled a little bit, something that made me feel even worse; it could be laughing at what I said, but also at me, and neither option was any good. I quickly folded my arms.

"The Pokémon language isss all about inflection, you ssssee," and I carefully avoided asking what 'inflection' was because I wasn't going to look any more an idiot. "Wordsss mean nothing, but the tone, regisssster, and accentsss do the talking."

There was a pause, and it watched me expectantly as I tried to figure out what it had said.

But I was still afraid of looking too stupid, so I ignored my ignorance and uttered, in carefully crafted tones: "Oh, I see."

Jolene shrugged. "I don't think you do."

"Do too!"

It gave another chuckle, and I found myself at a momentary loss for words. But just as I parted my lips to speak again, I heard a careful voice to the right, one that shook with nervousness.

"I, I'm okay n-now, I th-th-think..."

And as I turned to see who had talked, Jolene smiled triumphantly. "What'd I sssay?"

-

* In a not very real sense. Actual (and far more smelly and ugly) rats existed here, too, but were usually ignored by everyone who was not employed in sewers. The same tended to happen to the people who worked down in the sewage system, so _mostly_, everybody ended up happy.


	10. Chapter 10

It was the day after, and about mid-afternoon, I guessed. Me and Jolene were currently trying to slash our way through the undergrowth of Viridian Forest, which ought to have been named something else because 'forest' suggests a pleasant stroll through sparse trees and wildlife glancing down on you from the foliage overhead.

This was not true for what we were trekking through. There was barely a path at all, and the trees looked as though somebody humongous had stuffed them up their nose and sneezed them down, then repeated until it was impossible to go anywhere. Gooey slime hung in curtains from branches that were wrinkled and bent not only with old age but also due to a lack of space; incredible amounts of rocks sprinkled under our feet and pushed roots upwards and around themselves; and there was not a single spot of sunlight, except suggestions of day coming through where the layers of leaves were slightly thinner than a tangled mess.

The worst thing, however, were the brambles that littered everywhere the trees could not reach - it felt as though the flora cooperated deliberately to make the journey unpleasant, and the brambles did a better job of it because their whipping arms were covered in needles. My legs were spattered with red pricks and slashes from the things, and even my arms were not unharmed, because there were so many nooks and crannies that had thorny bushes growing on the walls, too.

There was life down here, though, but it was not the sort you would expect if you were used to regular forests, such as squirrels or deer or woodpeckers. What it had, were vast colonies of bugs that dangled high up in the treetops, or occasionally splashed downwards on the trunks or fallen logs. Fungi climbed every surface, and in turn were climbed by vast colonies of ants. Much rather than making it cosy or hinting of life, it felt creepy, like a haunted graveyard - only with worms and maggots instead of ghosts.

We had probably been in here for hours already, but only now did we manage to fight our way into what could be called a clearing, if you had a lot of goodwill to spare. There I sat down on a great big mushroom that was sticking out of a tree, while Jolene settled down near a glistening piece of wood*****.

After catching my breath, and drying off some yuk from my elbows, I called out Mr. Squeak.

... I felt bad about that name, I really did. Only at the time, when the Rattata had come up and stood on its hind legs and looked cutely at me, some basic human impulse had commanded that the only thing it could possibly be called was Mr. Squeak, or perhaps Bernard.

"Um," I said, after the light had cleared from its form, "how're you doing?"

It glanced around apprehensively. There was a definite upward motion to the lookaround - and as it finally caught sight of the uppermost reaches of the leaves, it faltered and seemed to shrink.

"M-meep!" it squealed, and cowered down.

Jolene gave me a nod while picking a few pins out of its legs, and I tried: "Yes, but we're gonna be, um, out soon. Jus' b'brave, okay?" I thought about it for a second, then added: "... 'll put you back 'nto th'ball, if you'd like."

Through its terror, it managed to whimper a simple "Yeyes", before falling back to trembling heavily. I held out the ball to it, and a red ray of light darted out, enveloping the frightened Rattata until Rattata was no more. The beam, satisfied, returned to the sphere, storing Mr. Squeak inside.

It had been out at the beginning, but had been so afraid of the increasingly looming overgrowth that I'd recalled it. Not that I blamed it, of course.

I found myself feeling around for the third Poké Ball, but suddenly thought better of it. The bees up in the trees here looked competitive, and probably wouldn't much like it coming out... I'd best save it until we were past the forest.

Instead, I turned to look at Jolene, and asked it: " 'm tired... D'you know how we c'n get out?"

"Ssssorry," it replied, deftly flicking a maggot off its arm. "I have never been here before."

"Seen any signs?"

"No, I haven't."

I shivered gently, absently rubbing a scrape on my elbow. Well, that was that. We'd just have to fight our way through even more angry trees, then, until we found the exit. It couldn't be _that_ far away, that much I figured, but we could very well have been walking in circles for all I knew.

Sighing, I stood up, and Jolene did the same. We set off ahead, towards a slight opening between the spiny clusters of wood; it could have been called a path, but only by very small insects.

After pressing our way through the hinders, we emerged in another clearing, one that was a bit larger than the previous one. But there was still no way out in sight.

What was in sight, however, was a thick vine swinging in a wide circle and bearing down upon us from a high-up branch nearby. From it hung what was clearly a young boy, except with the large amount of frayed nets hanging from him you might think he was a sea monster at first glance.

He was screaming loudly as he descended, but it was not the majestic howl of a forest king but rather a shriek of abject terror. Clinging to the vine with all his might, which was not very much, he came to the end of his arc - where the length of plant finally snapped.

I scrambled over to the bushes he had landed in, but stopped short of entering the mess of green and brown; I could see there were particularly unpleasant spikes in there. They had hooks in them.

The thing shook for a little while, as a cry grew gradually louder from within, and soon the boy was standing up in a flurry of brown twigs, shouting his pain to the uncaring world in general. Then, as though realising something, he flew out of the thorns and yelped.

"Um, you all right?" I ventured, and I felt my fingers fiddling a bit with the belly strap of the knapsack. "What're you doing?"

"Ouch, ow!" the boy said. He was currently dressed, if such a word could be used, in rags. They had been clothes once, but then he'd found the Viridian Forest and things had gone downhill; his bug-catching nets were also ripped asunder. Rhythmically, he gave various grunts of pain as he pinched needles and thorns from his body.

"Oh... Hi there," he said eventually, as though he had only just now realised that I was there. Out of his torn shirt pocket, he pulled a very bent pair of glasses, which had cracked on one eye; he put them on and considered me. "What are you doing here?"

"Tryin' t'get out, um, mist'r."

"Perhaps you might like some directions?" said the boy, and now he sounded very much hopeful.

Hesitating a bit, I replied: "Yes?"

"Then we'll have a battle! If I lose, I can show you the way out!" Suddenly, the fingers of his left hand clutched three Poké Balls.

I took a step back, and felt Jolene shuffle out of the way behind me. "Um... 'd really like best not to, mist'r..."

"But you must! Those are the rules! I call the battle, and you have to fight." This was said as a statement of fact, but also with the twinge that said "I _like_ these facts."

"Can't we... Battle later?"

"No!" he almost shouted, and I was so surprised by the force of it that I had to take another step to steady myself. Without any other ado, he skilfully flung out a Poké Ball; it landed right between us, and exploded in a blast of white.

A tiny, hairy bug stood there as the light vanished. The creature looked like somebody had drilled holes in orange marbles of various sizes and strung them on a length of thread, and then tied the back end to a hook and the front end to a party hat. Small red feet stuck out from each of the orbs that made up its body; a nose and pair of eyes adorned the largest, which was the head.

"Weedle," it wheezed, as I attempted to wrench my horrified gaze away from it. Oh, why'd he have to have that, of all Pokémon?

"Um, Jolene... C'n you do it?"

It paused, peering at the caterpillar, but something in my voice seemed to get through to it. Setting its jaw, it took a step forward and nodded.

The legend I'd seen appearing above its head out of nowhere so many times already, did so. 'Jolene', and after that, 'Lv. 14', hung suspended in thin air and followed the Charmander's every movement.

Forcing myself to look at the Weedle, I saw that it only had Lv. 7 pasted up. Then I quickly turned away. " 't's all yours..." I whispered, and stood still as a statue, staring fixedly at a nearby trunk.

A whoosh and the sounds of a crackling fire were soon heard, but I heard no agonising cries of burning death from the Weedle. Instead, I heard it grunt in pain after a slashing sound that I suspected was Jolene's claws sweeping at it.

"That is a very strong Charmander," I heard the bug catcher say, with awe in his voice. Two pings told me he'd recalled his Weedle and sent out his next Pokémon; the sparkle of the flame-ignited grass was still a very present noise in the background.

This time, there was something that could best be described as a 'shing', and then a crunch and a thud.

Two more pings, and an appreciative whistling sound from the ragged boy.

And then the whistling sound fell, making it sound more like something heavy was falling out of the sky, following a swift banging noise. Another distant ping came, and then Jolene said carefully: "You can look around now."

Slowly, I turned. There, to the left of the makeshift battlefield, was a still blazing fire, although it was quickly dissipating by dint of very much slime and mould covering the plant roots. Charmander stood waiting, with a bit of concern in its eyes; I forced a smile at it.

The boy, on the other hand, was scratching his head. "That's the strongest Charmander I have ever seen, that is," he said. Then he appeared to recall something. "Come to think of it, it's the _only_ Charmander I've seen."

He lifted away a torn piece of cloth that seemed to have been a jacket once, and from it he pulled a notebook and a pencil. My existence seemed to momentarily disappear for him; he'd started to hum.

I tried clearing my throat. "Um... Mist'r?"

"Now, let's see... It evolves around... Oh my... Oh?" Glancing up, he caught hold of me with his eyes again, and adjusted his glasses to no avail. "Yes?"

"Think 'll want to get out now..."

"Oh, nothing worse? Just head straight over there," he replied, pointing off to the other end of the open space. "There's a track leading through the brambles, and it'll take you right out, no worries."

Jolene groaned, but I nodded swiftly. "Thanks, mist'r," I said, and started inching my way away; I noted with the back of my head that the last of the fire went out with a soaked hiss.

The bug catcher was left standing as I tried to get away with a minimum of fuss. Jolene followed right behind, both of our feet squelching on the forest floor, and after a few minutes we stood outside what the boy had called a 'track'.

It wasn't. If it was, it was a demo.

There was a hole, just above ground level******, that was just wide enough for me to clamber through. If I had no concern for my clothing or for infections.

My Charmander was staring at me, tongue hanging out in disgust.

"I know, but we got to... 've you seen another way?"

"I could torch the playssss," it said disdainfully. "But I won't."

"Less go, then."

We crawled for a while through the people-width tunnel, the various plants cracking and bending under our knees, until I suddenly saw a bright light ahead. Scurrying forward as fast as I dared, I saw that we were only fifty feet away from freedom.

Feeling relieved, I half-turned my head as much as I dared, and said to Jolene: "Not long now... I c'n see the outside!"

"Ick..."

"We're gonna be out of th'woods any minute now!"

"... I'll never get out of the woodssss..." it moaned.

I paused. "That sounded, um, sort of fillysoppical, Jolene."

"It'ssss not. My foot issssstuck in a bog."

-

* I was not surprised to learn that if you wanted to light a fire in here, you needed to do it with at least a dozen firebombs; Jolene's tail had touched many leaves that all repelled the flame because of the icky slime, and even dead branches down here were soggier than so many used handkerchiefs.  
** It was not the ground, and it most definitely wasn't level, but it was as close as you could get to either in that jungle.


End file.
